


kintsukuroi

by Ysabetwordsmith



Series: Love Is For Children [19]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Boundaries, Boundary Issues, Broken Families, Broken people, Communication, Communication Failure, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fugitives, Gen, Isolation, Jealousy, Past Abuse, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Shame, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust, Trust Issues, internalized oppression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysabetwordsmith/pseuds/Ysabetwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Widow meets Hawkeye and Agent Coulson, and eventually moves into Avengers Tower. She learns to see the beauty in broken things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kintsukuroi

**Author's Note:**

> This story spans the time from when Natasha first met Clint and Phil, through their service at SHIELD, the Battle of New York, the advent of game night, finding Bucky, and slowly settling into life in the tower. It also fills the "glass" square in [my 3-30-14 card](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/9715202.html) for the fest.
> 
> A note on feedback: While it's not necessary to comment on every post I make, remember that I don't know who reads/likes things if nobody says anything. Particularly on long stories, I've discovered that I get antsy if there's nothing but crickets chirping for several posts. So it helps to give me feedback at least once, even if it's just "I like this" or "This one doesn't grab me." First and last episodes are ideal if you rarely feel inspired to comment in the middle.
> 
> Anonymous commenters: You don't have to specify exactly who you are, but it helps to have a first name or a username from some other service, so I have some idea of who's saying which and how many different "Anonymous" folks there are. You can just type some kind of identifier at the end of your comment.

Natasha's broken,  
has been broken for years --  
chips and cracks and stains --  
her mind is a shattered vase,  
and her body damaged goods.

She is so tired  
of the hunting and killing,  
running and hiding,  
all to no higher purpose  
than staying alive -- for _what?_

She just wants to stop,  
even if it means her death --  
perhaps, _especially_ then --  
so she lets him close on her,  
the archer with steady hands.

Natasha is stunned  
by the arrow that pierces  
her arm, not her heart,  
its aim precise as ever,  
its meaning inscrutable.

She can't understand  
why Hawkeye doesn't kill her,  
why he touches her  
ragged edges so gently,  
holds her like something fragile.

She can't imagine  
why Coulson would speak for her,  
why his words wrap her  
in soft gauze like bandages,  
treat her like something precious.

Natasha's confused,  
who is used to everything  
being crisp and clear,  
target centered in crosshairs,  
line of red drawn across throat.

Everything is wrong --  
alive, not dead; free, not owned --  
but she does not know  
who she is or what she is  
or how to fix what's broken.

The two men take her  
and fit the shards of herself  
each to the other,  
sealing the shattered fragments  
tenderly back together.

Natasha's whole now,  
or as close as she can get --  
she knows the cracks show,  
and the rust-red stains that won't  
wash away no matter what.

She has a new life,  
new names and faces to wear,  
and new friends as well,  
a chance to fight, still shadowed,  
but facing now toward the light.

Her ledger is fresh,  
though gushing with older red;  
there are black lines now,  
written in her careful hand  
as she balances accounts.

Natasha is shocked  
when she hears the fateful words --  
"Barton's compromised" --  
but she doesn't hesitate  
and she holds back not at all.

So she tracks him down  
and she kicks him in the head.  
She knows that some things  
must be broken before they  
can be mended and made whole.

She knows how it hurts  
when pouring molten metal  
into a cracked heart  
but her hands are steady now  
as his hands once were for her.

Natasha's weary  
after the mighty battle,  
gathering with friends,  
grateful to have her partner back  
but mourning their handler's loss.

When Coulson comes back  
alive, somewhat worse for wear,  
Natasha knows that  
Fury has broken away  
another piece of her trust.

She does not think that  
it's so easily repaired  
as fine porcelain.  
She knows the cracks will always  
show even if it's mended.

Natasha's puzzled  
at first by Steve's insistence  
on fixing old things  
instead of buying new ones,  
but in time she understands

This is his way of  
making a difference at home,  
as he does outside,  
taking the imperfections  
and showing what they could be.

Seams, zippers, buttons --  
he knows how to put them right.  
The patches he makes  
are embroidered into place,  
colorful and compelling.

Natasha's surprised  
when Phil proposes game night  
but she is willing  
to try whatever he asks  
because he's so often right.

She learns to drop down  
the long tunnel of herself  
on a shining thread,  
an itsy-bitsy spider  
going down a waterspout.

She finds Natka there,  
leads herself into the light,  
and learns how to play.  
She never knew childhood  
could be so simple, or so hard.

Natasha is numb  
when they first identify  
the Winter Soldier,  
so she just lets her instincts  
carry her through the battle.

Later, she struggles  
with memories of her own  
as his start to thaw.  
She recalls how hard it is  
from the times they shared before.

She knew him -- _knows him_ \--  
and will not give up again  
until he is whole  
as she is whole now, showing  
always the shiny repairs.

Natasha's startled  
by Clint's sudden jealousy,  
sniping at Bucky --  
they have so much in common,  
but they don't know how to share.

She doesn't know how  
to teach them that, but maybe  
Phil will know a way.  
Slowly it works itself out,  
two and two becoming three.

She recalls a rhyme:  
 _Make new friends but keep the old;_  
 _One is silver and_  
 _The other's gold._ They are glass,  
held together by mettle.

Natasha's stubborn,  
like a witch counting mustard;  
she won't stop until  
she has picked up every piece,  
even the smallest splinters.

It does not matter  
how long the project may take --  
weeks or months or years,  
she will see it through with them,  
as has been done for her too.

She fixes her friends  
the way she fixes herself,  
the way they fixed her,  
silver fondness and gold love,  
heated, broken, beautiful.

Natasha's happy,  
determined to find some grace  
in her battered life,  
holding a patchwork pillow  
that Steve has mended for her.

In her apartment,  
she has a Japanese bowl  
with gold and silver  
veined through shattered ceramic,  
more precious now for its flaws.

These are things that she  
would like to learn how to do  
not breaking people  
but repairing broken things  
to bring out hidden beauty.

**Author's Note:**

> The end notes are too long to fit. Read them on the [original Dreamwidth post](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/9806258.html).


End file.
